These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
My sleep has been disturbed by vivid dreams for weeks now. I think I know why ...
I haven't been blogging daily for more than a month. I've been feeling a little too overwhelmed. Operation Midway Blitz continues to weigh heavily on my community. DHS Secretary Kristi Noem likes to say they are focused on deporting "the worst of the worst," but it's not true. The people ensnared by DHS are our neighbors. ICE has staked out the parking lot of the children's museum and detained parents at the elementary school. Landscapers have been pulled off ladders and collected from front lawns, so local teens have volunteered to rake leaves and cut grass for free – that way we can cancel scheduled yard services but still pay the bill. (After all, these workers are not only scared, they're cash strapped.) Restaurants are struggling because back-of-the-house employees are afraid to go to work and service suffers. The card shop where I work has a protocol to follow if I feel "threatened" by federal officers, who are not allowed to enter the store but can stand directly in front of the front or back doors.
The above is just off the top of my head. I could write about pepper spray and zip ties. I could notate how detainees are denied due process. I could talk about how we're encouraged to keep our whistles and phones with us at all times, so we can first alert our neighbors to ICE and then document their excesses.
Between undocumented workers and unpaid federal employees, the demand at the food pantry has grown to nearly unmanageable.
This is no way to live. It's oppressive and it's with us all the time.
Yes, I know illegal immigration has grown to unacceptable proportions. But this response is illegal, excessive and cruel, just as it's intended to be.
Donald Trump has coarsened us. He's cost us our compassion, civility and dignity – the destruction of the East Wing is an apt metaphor.
Now he's costing me my sleep, too.
I used to think that posting about these things could become tiresome. I once worried that I was releasing malaise into the blogosphere.
But at 4:30 AM I realized that this is where I work things through. This brings me a certain level of relief during a stressful time. So I'm returning to blogging. Not only about politics and current affairs but my life.
After I post this, I'm rolling over and hopefully going back to sleep.
For my 400th TT, I decided to recycle one from 10 years ago. Before I get the same comments I got a decade ago: Yes, TV Guide is still published. Here's the subscription link.
Thursday Thirteen #231
THE THIRTEEN MOST POPULAR
TV STARS OF ALL TIME
How to rank something so incredibly subjective? By turning to the TV Bible, aka TV Guide, of course! It's been publishing regularly since April 1953. And here are their thirteen most frequent cover subjects.
1) Lucille Ball -- 31 covers
2) Mary Tyler Moore -- 24 covers
3) Johnny Carson -- 23 covers
4) Bill Cosby AND Oprah Winfrey -- tied at 19
5) Larry Hagman -- 18 covers
6) Carol Burnett -- 17 covers
7) Barbara Walters AND Carroll O'Connor -- tied at 16
8) Michael Landon AND Michael J. Fox -- tied at 15. These two Michaels grew up before our eyes on the cover of TV Guide.
• Landon was 23 when he had his first cover, as Little Joe Cartwright of Bonanza, in 1960 and 54 when TV Guide ran a cover story memorializing him upon his death in 1991.
• Fox was 21 when he appeared on his first cover as Alex P. Keaton of Family Ties in 1982, and 52 at the time of his most recent cover in 2013.
9) Cybil Shepherd -- 14 covers (I was surprised she was this popular)
10) Lawrence Welk AND Raymond Burr AND Jaclyn Smith (what an odd combination!) -- tied at 13
11) Richard Chamberlain AND Roseanne AND Ted Danson -- tied at 12
Tom Selleck in 1980 ....
... and 35 years later
12) Bob Hope AND Candice Bergen AND Mike Wallace AND Tom Selleck -- tied at 11 (Selleck was on the cover for the 11th time earlier this month)
13) Andy Griffith AND James Garner AND Jerry Seinfeld AND Hugh Laurie -- tied at 10
Please join us for The NEW THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.
1. I am looking forward to ... Going to the chiropractor Monday. This leg pain is getting better by day but it is still bad at night.
2. Least favorite words. My least favorite word begins with a "c." Let's leave it at that.
3. If I ruled the world people would be more polite in public. It sounds like a little thing when you consider all that's wrong with the world. But a stranger's rudeness and grumpiness can stick to me all day, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way. I think the world would be happier if we all paid closer attention to how we board elevators, pass one another in store aisles, etc.
4. Favorite websites and blogs. I am loving the ladies who have joined me in the August Happiness Challenge: Deb J. in Utah, Kwizgiver and Country Dew.
5. Things I do for myself. Everything! I live alone so I don't share chores with anyone.
6. Weekly rituals. I do laundry on Tuesday.
7. DIYs I want to try. None. I am the laziest and least handy woman you'll ever meet.
8. On my shopping list. It seems I'm always in need of Bounty paper towels and Coke.
9. Places to see in your town. If you come to Chicago, you must visit The Friendly Confines.
10. Road trip must-haves. Twizzlers or Life Savers or a cup of applesauce and a spoon ... stuff that will quench my thirst but won't make me pee.
11. Guilty pleasures. Lately I have been watching reruns of the 1960s soap Peyton Place, and I have been enjoying them thoroughly.
12. Things I'd rather be doing right now. Napping.
13. Books I'd like to read this year. 12 Months to Live by James Patterson and Mike Lupica. I've heard that it's a fun read, and I'm on the library waiting list.
14. Lessons learned. Drinking water is good for you. Really. Your kidneys and your complexion will thank you if you drink more water.
15. Vacations to take. My TV boyfriend, TCM's Eddie Muller, hosts film noir film festivals in cities all over the country. In addition to Chicago, there's San Francisco, Detroit, Washington DC and Philly. I think it would be a blast to travel by Amtrak to all those cities and watch movies all day and night. (Margaret from my movie group does just that, and I'm so jealous.)
Extra question: Olympic events I like to watch or follow. I don't pay any attention to the Olympics, but I am aware of this: Mallory Swanson scored the winning goal to win the Gold for the US in soccer. Her hubs is our own Dansby Swanson, the Cubs' Gold Glove shortstop.
"Michael Jackson set his hair on fire. Druggies do that." So went the answer to what I thought was an innocent enough question on this week's Saturday 9: Without looking it up, can you recall why Michael Jackson's Pepsi commercial made headlines the world over?
No, you dark-hearted dipshit, Michael Jackson did NOT set his own hair on fire.During filming, thepyrotechnic display went horribly wrong and, as he was descending the stairs, the explosion went off too close to his head and his hair caught on fire. In front of thousands of witnesses. On videotape. I only asked the question because it was one of the major news stories of 1984 and I thought anyone not living under a rock would recall it.
Michael Jackson had second and third degree burns on his face and scalp. Can you imagine how painful that must have been? (Remember the last time you burned your finger on a hot iron? Magnify that a million times over all over your head and face.) He endured several surgeries as a result. Here's the video:
Yes, Michael Jackson went on to have serious substance abuse problems -- likely as a result of this accident. I am no Michael Jackson fan. In fact, I can think of little nice to say about this artist as a man. But neither he, nor anyone who struggles substance abuse, deserves this black-hearted dipshit's dismissive attitude. Addiction is a disease, not a character flaw. No one would say, "He set his hair on fire. Asthmatics do that."
Well, maybe our black-hearted dipshit would. Who knows what misinformation about asthma she embraces? After all, look at all the conspiracy theories that stubbornly swirl about the covid vaccine.
And, of course, there's the FACT that he didn't set his hair on fire. Not that facts matter when you accept a stereotype and hug it tight.
Sometimes I love the internet. Right now I hate it. "Michael Jackson set his hair on fire. Druggies do that." That cruel, cavalier, thoughtless comment encapsulates everything that's wrong with the world wide web. Because someone might read it and believe it's true. "I read someplace Michael Jackson set his hair on fire. He was freebasing. He was a black kid from Gary so naturally he was on drugs and druggies will do that ..." And so it will go.
Or let's look at the case of Paul Pelosi. The 84-year-old was home alone. Asleep. He woke up to find a man half his age standing over him. With a hammer. He tried to reason with the man. He contacted police. The intruder bashed his skull in. Again, like the Michael Jackson accident, the attack was filmed. Instead of regarding this as a crime, it became the source of ugly rumors ... and unexpected hilarity. Want to see Donald Trump Jr., eldest son of the former President and officer of The Trump Organization, joke about it? Click here. Suddenly a home invasion becomes a gay tryst gone wrong, and somehow Hunter Biden is dragged into it. This ugly bullshit was retweeted more than 4,000 times. (People take tweets down all the time. Not Donald Trump Jr. He apparently stands by this. Which tells you a lot about him.)
Of course the problem is not the internet, per se, but media in general. And the willingness of some to be uninformed and hateful. It's an age-old problem. I've wandered through the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum many times and the cruel stories and cartoons printed about Abe during the 1860s would be enough to make you cry. (Unless, of course, you're a black-hearted dipshit. The proliferation of Confederate flags makes me wonder what my countrymen really believe about our greatest President.)
Before I slide my soap box away, I promise you this: I try not to spread misinformation. As with the Michael Jackson and Donald Trump Jr. references, I try to include links. I want to be what's good about the internet, and human nature. Not what's bad.
I recently finished My Name Is Barbra, Streisand's epic autobiography, and was delighted to read how consistently positive Barbra was about Judy. Over the years I've read that Judy felt threatened by Barbra, or that Barbra dismissed Judy as irrelevant, but in Streisand's telling, none of that's true. Judy recognized Barbra's talent and was enthusiastic about working with her, and Barbra acknowledges Judy's exceptional skills as a performer and how open and welcoming the established star was to the newcomer.
So if you're looking for juicy gossip about a feud, move along. There's nothing to see here. Not in my post, nor in Barbra's book. I'm going to concentrate on how Judy influenced Barbra and the younger woman's career trajectory.
Barbra appeared on The Judy Garland Show in October 1963. Considering
Judy's career in the 1960s, I've always wondered: What If? What if Judy
had a manager who cared about her, respected her talent, and took the
long view of her career, the way Brian Epstein looked out for the
Beatles and Marty Erlichman took care of Streisand. Marty discovered
Barbra when she was just 18 and has been with her more than 60
super successful years. And it's Marty who made Barbra's historic appearance
on The Judy Garland Show happen.
David Begelman and Freddie Fields were handling Judy at the time, and they wanted to bring young Barbra to their agency. They kept calling Marty, asking him what they'd have to do to "get Barbra." Marty said, "You get us The Judy Garland Show and you'll get Barbra." While Judy's show was not a hit, Marty was smart enough to know watching these two generational talents work together would get a tremendous amount of media attention. Barbra, just 21 and still in rehearsals for Funny Girl, could benefit enormously from being in Judy's spotlight. Judy was enthusiastic about sharing her stage with this hot new girl singer. As Mel Torme recalled in his book, "When Judy and Barbra met, it was instant warmth. I knew Garland would be on her toes all week to keep pace with this extraordinary girl."
Now for the legendary "Happy Days Are Here Again/Get Happy" Medley. Barbra included "Happy Days" on her first album. Listening to the LP in her dressing room, she began weaving her own song, "Get Happy," in with Barbra's. Judy requested that Mel Torme, musical director on the show, shape it into the duet that the two ladies so memorably performed.
Barbra recalls Judy as "completely generous." She was surprised that, when they performed together, Judy grabbed her hand and held on. At 21, Barbra didn't know why Judy was apparently so nervous during the taping. Now, 60 years later, she thinks she does. Barbra believes that Judy wasn't worried about her audience, but producers, money men and critics who often seem to just be waiting for artists to fail.
In
2012, I saw Barbra perform the "Happy Days/Get Happy" medley live onstage with her sister
Roslyn Kind singing Judy's part. (Not as well as Judy, of course, but I was excited to hear it again all the same.)
Near the top of the charts in the autumn of 1964 was Barbra Streisand: The Third Album. You
see Judy's influence the moment you pick it up. The
photograph on the cover was taken by Judy's dear friend Roddy McDowell while Barbra was
performing on The Judy Garland Show.
Caution! In the early 1960s, Barbra threw a party and Judy surprised her by showing up. She didn't stay long but demonstrated why Barbra referred to her as "kind, truthful, supportive." Watching Barbra's career take off with gold records, award-winning TV specials and a starring role on Broadway, Judy warned the younger woman, "Don't let them do to you what they did to me."
A Star Is Born.Full disclosure: Judy's version is my very favorite, Barbra's is my least favorite. But I'm not going to debate that here. Nor am I going to compare and contrast. Instead I'm just going to point out that both Barbra and Judy performed in menswear-inspired outfits as Esther.
Esther Hoffman sings "Woman in the Moon"
Esther Blodgett sings "Gotta Have Me Go with You"
Again with the What If? Barbra has two Oscars. In fact, she's an EGOT. I am a Streisand super fan and celebrate her accomplishments.
But this all makes me wistful about Judy. What if she'd had the gift of time (Barbra has more than 30 years on Judy) and the benefit a role model, like she was for Barbra? How much more joy could she have given us, and enjoyed herself? At the end of My Name Is Barbra, Streisand is content with her life and happy in love. How I wish we could listen to Judy at 80, reflecting on her life and career.
All anyone seems to be talking about here these days is the upcoming/any-day-now cicada invasion. Bugs don't bother me, and I barely remember their appearnce in 2007. But I am paying attention to the conversation and stories swirling around because it seems I'm rather like a cicada these days.
They emerge from their lives underground, sing and shed their shells. I feel like I'm emerging from grief and I'm ready to sing and face the past and the future with something other than loneliness and regret.
I'm back at the card shop, and interacting with our customers has done me good. I especially enjoyed working with a proud grandma celebrating a Kindergarten graduation. She came in for a card and left with a card, a book, a gift bag, a pair of fun pens (her granddaughter will be using ballpoints for the first time come fall and now she can practice). Because she was paying cash and spent so much more than she intended she couldn't afford $4.50 for tissue for the gift bag. I slipped some of the store tissue -- the stuff we use when someone buys something breakable -- into the gift bag. I was whispered that even though the store's logo is printed on it, the color works. I lowered my voice because I didn't want her to feel embarrassed, but she thought I was extending myself in a way that would get me in trouble. I'm quite sure my boss, Ceecee, would have done the same thing in my position. The customer was spending more than $60 and was running low on cash. Anyway, Grandma was so grateful that I spent so much time listening about her granddaughter, helping her find the perfect card and gift, and then (in her mind) breaking the rules by slipping her a freebie and she kept using my name when she thanked me over and over. Similarly, I helped a young woman put together a very pretty and impressive gift bag for her wine-loving friend. Getting it just right was important to her because she'd missed her friend's birthday. Anyway, helping others gets me out of my own head, and I'm lucky this job gives me that opportunity.
I wrote Postcards to Voters. Again, doing good gets me out of my own head, and losing my friends does not mitigate my duty as a citizen to be involved.
I'm back at yoga. My back is so creaky without it. It's time to accept that Henry and John may not be with me but I'm still here and I need to do this.
I went to lunch with John. Yes, he's still dead and no, I haven't lost my mind. It's just that I decided to honor his memory by revisiting his favorite bars and restaurants and raising a glass in his honor. I started with Italian Village.
One of Chicago's great Italian restaurants, it's been in the same spot for nearly 100 years and the owners simply cannot install an elevator. Doing so would compromise the structural integrity of the building. And so John, with his limited mobility, was no longer able to enjoy, in his words, "a big slab of pasta" at one of his favorite places.
I returned with my friend Elaine and told her stories about him. As I would with John, I stopped and reviewed the signed photos of celebrities on the wall and thought of the jokes he'd make about Frank Sinatra's unfortunate toupee.
It all made me feel better.
I'm blessed that way. God has given me the ways to emerge from my grief. It's time to avail myself of them.
PS Thank you, Country Dew, for saying that you see me and hear me. That was perceptive and it really helped.
4. Chase.com. Yes, I bank with the monolith. They have a real monopoly on ATMs here in Chicagoland. (Yes, I still use cash.)
5. Twitter. I refuse to call it X. It's where I live tweet with my TCM buddies when my favorite movies are being shown, and get my latest New York Yankees news and rumors. (I must know what's up with my forever Captain, Anthony Rizzo.)
6. TCM.com. Sometimes I want to know my favorite channel's lineup far in advance.
7. Amazon.com. Everything is there. Really. They have literally everything.
8. Goodreads.com. I keep track of what I've read and get ideas for what to read next.
10. My local pizza place. They often offer coupons online and I'm a pizza slut. Go ahead, judge me. I won't change.
11. USPS tracking. This one annoys my oldest friend because she says it encourages me to worry about something I have no control over. She's right, of course. But I won't change.
12. Petco.com. My big tuxedo, Roy Hobbs, likes the Purina Pro Plan Salmon and it sells out quickly. I order it online and pick it up at my local store.
13. Blogger. How else can I keep up with you lovely people?
Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.
Greatest hits edition.I resumed participating in Thursday Thirteen back in January 2022. It's a fun exercise: I enjoy letting my mind wander and see what I'll come up with. I'm often inspired by seeing what y'all come up with, as well.
Since I like obviously like lists, this week's TT is a list of my most popular Thursday Thirteen posts since January 2022. Popularity is determined by the number of visits each post received.
Miss me? I haven't actually been online since Monday evening. (I scheduled my WWW and TT posts in advance.) My modem crapped out, leaving me without any internet at all, no landline phone and no doorbell, which is connected to my wifi. I've felt like a pioneer woman. OK, so I was a pioneer woman with a cell phone and HD TV with just about every channel known to man, but still!
Tuesday morning I had a tooth pulled, so I wasn't up for having the Xfinity tech here that day. There were no appointments available for Wednesday. So Thursday at 1:30, I got my new modem and was reconnected to the world.
PS Shout out to Country Dew: Your explanation of my Anthony Rizzo adoration was letter perfect! Thank you.
I've been very lucky with this blog. In the 17 years that I've been chronicling and sharing my life, I've met some really terrific people. Bloggers who lift me when I'm down, who have expanded my world view, who have recommended books. I am very frank here, and I feel like my readers know me better than many people I encounter in real life, where I pull my punches and worry more about appearances.
One of my first blog buddies was royalty: Queen Mimi of Bloggingham. She's warm and funny and real. An advocate for peace and the founder of Blog4Peace, because words matter. She began reading my posts early on, which means she's had a front row seat for my evolution. Her respect and affection matter to me.
Which is why I was delighted to return from a getaway to Tampa and find a big box of goodies from Bloggingham waiting for me! Chocolates and peeps. Scented, girly stuff. A handwritten note from the monarch herself. Plus a pitcher from Italy and a liberty blue plate.
Beautiful. Thoughtful. Perfect.
I had purchased postcards in Tampa to send to friends but had misaddressed one before I could write the message. I was going to throw it out but didn't. (Snarkypants would say I was responding to a "ping" from the universe.) It turned out to be a nice, colorful vehicle for a thank you note, sent from my humble Chicagoland home to the Castle.
I read your comment and I appreciate the invite. I enjoyed your blog and hearing about your life. It's just I'm so frank about people and things here that I don't want my real name attached to it, and sending you an email would include my real name.
I don't want you to think I ignored you or that I don't care.
Monday was a rough day.I was still exhausted from my day in the ER. But I couldn't just lie in bed because I had the handyman here all day working on my living room windows. He did a nice job, neat and efficient and he was out of here as fast as he could. I appreciated that.
I spent a lot of the day fielding calls from the hospital and making follow up appointments. I appreciate the quality of care I've received but I admit I'm overwhelmed by the next steps. Monday I shall bounce between my dentist's office and the hospital to consult with a urologist about my kidney stone. Then next Friday afternoon I follow up with my doctor to talk about my condition -- especially the MRI the hospital recommends to rule out abnormalities on my pancreas.
Tuesday I cried at work. I've been employed full time since I was 17 years old and I've never before cried in a professional situation.* Now that my career is coming to end, I dissolved. It was during a conference call, so at least I was weepy in the privacy of my own home, but my coworkers could hear it my voice.
My dream project -- the one I've been arguing to do for months -- has finally kicked off. Now, when I'm a lame duck. Now, when I don't time to do the quality of work I want to do. Now, when I'm fucking medicated! The client not only wants it done in a truncated time frame, they want it presented in a new template I've never used before. I cannot concentrate on both content and templating in this time frame, not when codeine complicates the equation. So I fell apart.
I am not proud of this.
Rita, our newest team member, dove right in. "I've got you, Girlie!" she kept saying. "You're fine. I've got you!"
And she did. I did the writing, she did the formatting. And even though I won't be able to present it to the client myself, she promises, "I'll do you proud."
I'm so glad Rita gets me. I do still care. Because here's the thing: my client's corporate office is unhappy with the advertising agency I work for. My day-to-day clients have never had a single complaint about me. I know and understand their concerns and appreciate that they trust me to help solve them.
I know, especially when you read things like the Trump complaint in NYC, it's easy to be jaded about corporate America. But my clients are honest and have integrity, and as long as they're paying me, I won't just "phone it in."
Will September 30 be my last day? I don't know. Our contract runs through November 30, but layoffs could happen with any pay period between now and then.
And I got answers! Originally I went to the ER with what my doctor suspected was diverticulitis. In addition to the crippling abdominal pain (which is the kidney stone), I have been battling gastrointestinal trouble. Months of it. No appetite. Constipation one day, diarrhea the next. After reviewing my test results, the hospital has diagnosed me with epiploic appendagitis. I'm learning what it means. Maybe someday I'll learn how to pronounce it!
Also, my gall bladder and pancreas look "unremarkable." This is a relief!
But there's still baseball. Anthony Rizzo (and the Yankees) have clinched a playoff berth and the Cubs have won 7 of their last 10. I feel sorry for people who don't love baseball. And cats. And books. Baseball, cats and books have gotten me through this so far.
And blog friends. Thank you for the kind messages. I have read them and I appreciate them enormously.
*I did once vomit from stress. That was in 1991 or 92. But that was in the privacy of the ladies' room and I'm not sure everyone knew about it. Ah, advertising! There are things I will not miss.
Blogger Bev Sykes turned me on to Letters Against Isolation.This group comforts lonely seniors by seeing to it that they get handwritten correspondence. Writing is what I do. I can't sing or dance, but I can write.
So far I've sent two kitty notecards with details about my own cats, and two picture postcards featuring Lake Michigan, with a note about cold our Great Lake is these days. It's my hope that having handwritten mail featuring an engaging illustration will lift the mood of seniors. I like imagining them tacking my notecard or postcard on the wall.
It's an easy way to help others, and there's little in life that's better than that!
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